Veronica Gosling: a tribute to Exeter's fearless, unique community artist

To anybody creating music or art, inspiration comes in many guises. All of us need mentors and people who give us the courage to create and think differently. This is why I'm still mourning the passing of Veronica Gosling. Eccentric, rebellious and kind, I cannot quite put into words just how important she and her gallery, Exeter's Studio 36, have been to my journey in music. It's fitting, therefore, that I will be playing at the Studio's special tribute day, on the afternoon of May 17th, 2026, alongside songwriter Peter Farrie and a host of others.

Above all else, it was Veronica's vivacity and sense of fun that helped give me the courage to make music again. Originally, I found the studio by accident. A crazy, house, where everything, even the fridge and stairs, are painted. A bicycle hovers in mid air; a painted toaster explodes with varnished slices of bread frozen in mid-air; dreamlike pictures of birds, people and random quotes cover every wall.

And then I found the piano. At the time, I had no instrument of my own and little means to practice, let alone any encouragement. Presumably, she enjoyed my blues and jazz ramblings, because I was invited back and over the following years, I practiced and performed, wrote songs, made new friends at the studio, played at events and had regular cups of tea and chats with Veronica. She became like my favourite aunt.

Even in her 90s, talking to Veronica was like speaking to a young rebel. In her own way, she was a punk! Most of all, I loved her fearlessness. She didn't make art to be liked or popular - she just had to create, and help others create. I don't even think she really liked the term "artist" - a label for something that came as naturally as breathing to her. And from Dementia art groups to events that brought together people from all backgrounds, she was just as keen to help others on their journey. For someone told in their youth that music and art were not a proper occupation (to the extent I was forbidden from even taking GCSE music), it was like a late flowering, and an invitation to be brave and express myself.

Unsurprisingly, her funeral was as unique and hilarious as it was sad. The stories had us in stiches. She painted bus stops. She wrote novels. She once painted a party guest's shirt and then offered to buy it off him when he wasn't best pleased. She also liked taking potshots at squirrels with a shotgun, and was once detained by US customs because her coat was rattling with shells! Only Veronica could have talked her way through that one. It's probably a good thing they didn't talk politics because she detested bullies and conmen like Trump and Farage and had a deep sense of fairness and inclusivity. Anyone who loved art and ideas was welcome, whether they came from Bangladesh or Beacon Heath.

As for direct influence on my music, perhaps the best example is the song and video "Rubbish". Veronica was obsessed with found and discarded objects, making them into quirky, arresting sculptures. I had a similar curiousity, but wanted to see what sounds found objects made. In fact, I had an idea that the rhythm section of "rubbish" should be boosted by real rubbish and unloved items,

The hitch was that every waste site or scrapyard I found hit me with health and safety fears or council nonsense. Emails and phonecalls were not returned and it was stalemate... until the afternoon after Veronica's funeral. What would she do in my shoes? I knew the answer- she would just go forth an create, regardless. It was zero risk, in reality, and it would tickle the staff to know that some nutjob was creating a punk record. And so, in no particular order, I went and played/sampled a wheelie bin, plastic barrels, dumped furniture, some railings and even a toilet!

My only regret is that Veronica never got to see the finished song and video. The phrase "it's what she would have wanted" comes to mind. Will we see her like again? Who knows- but she promised to come back as a seagull, so I will be watching my chips carefully this summer. Rest in Peace, Veronica, you were not only a true one off, but a catalyst for so many other people to express themselves.